A/N: Arienna DyBane asked an interesting question: "And al, what are you
going to do if Legolas falls out of RotK after the movie, too? There aren't
any more after that!"
And the answer? I don't know. I don't expect he will fall out of RotK. I just don't know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 19 Tool Time
"I said HOLD STILL!"
"I kin't! It HUERTZ!"
"I can't very well fix it if you don't stop fighting! This is a damned fine bloody mess you've gotten yourself into this time, you know."
"OOOOOOeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww! al!"
"I thought you were a warrior. Warriors are tougher than that," says Lil' Pip, clearly not impressed with the Prance's pain tolerance.
"OOOEEEWWWW!!! Tampa tanya, al!"
"Geez, he squeals like a girl," complains Lil' Pip.
"Shued uep!"
"Don't say shut up," lectures Yes Dear from the floor where he's working hard to restrain the Prance to keep him from doing any more damage to himself. "It's not nice."
I take advantage of the distraction of their arguing to stand up and try to find something to get us out of this situation. Moving to the bathroom closet, I grab the first aid kit and a couple of towels and hurry back to the kitchen. Kneeling by the Prance's head, I open the kit and take out some antibiotic cream, some gauze pads, some cotton-tipped applicators, and the little needle-nosed pinchers called hemostats.
"NOE! NOE! NOET DA SEEEZIRZ!!" wails Prance Helpful.
"Hold still. You're only making things worse with all this struggling," I say, whispering so he'll have to listen closely as I squeeze some of the greasy antibiotic cream onto a gauze pad and hold the pad to the sawblade where it's so firmly embedded. As I work the cream in with my right hand, I start to stroke his cheek with the back of my left, hoping the gesture will reassure and comfort him. "I'm not going to cut you. I'm going to work some of this antibiotic cream in here and then see if I can get you loose from this blade, okay?"
"Okae," he whimpers. His baby blue eyes are locked on mine.
Once I've got every millimeter covered in the oily cream, I lay out a couple more of the gauze squares where I can reach them easily and pick up the hemostats. Pulling gently with tiny tugs, I start to separate him from the circular saw.
After about ten minutes, I make eye contact with Yes Dear.
"This is really bad, you know."
"I know."
"I'm not sure I can do this."
"I know."
Another ten minutes passes. Legolas is lying very still flat on his back there between us with his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing with little shallow inhales and exhales, trying incredibly hard to be patient and cooperative.
"Iz it gitteng eni bedder?" he whispers.
"Yes," I lie. "I appreciate how quiet you're being. It's a lot of help, sweetie. Hang in there for just a little bit longer."
Yes Dear wipes his hand across his forehead. "You want me to try?"
"Sure."
"Trade places with me."
He takes the hemostats and the gauze pads from me and, as he starts to pick and pull, says softly, "You said to make him wear the safety goggles."
"I know," I reply. "And I see he's still wearing them, though they're not much good in a situation like this."
Yes Dear bristles at me. "Well, neither one of us really expects a medal. I vote we bag him into the van and haul him down to the ER and see what they can do."
"What a wuss. . . ," mumbles Lil' Pip from the recliner where she's reading her latest Nancy Drew mystery.
"You know we can't do that. We'll just have to handle this ourselves." I stop to consider my alternatives, and the only thing I can come up with is the same thing I've been avoiding for the past half hour. "I don't want to do this, but if I use the scissors to sever just that one little place there, I think I can work him loose without hurting him any more. . . ."
"Might as well get on with it then," decides the Man of the House.
"Noe, puhleese. . . noet da seezirs. . . ," whines the Prance, watching me reach to pick them up from the first aid kit.
"I have to, baby. I'm sorry," I say reassuringly as I use the curved bandage scissors to make a tiny cut by reaching down in between the sawblade and the metal handle.
A yelp and three more tugs with the hemostats later, the Prance pops free. He's off the floor in a flash and halfway to the bathroom before I can even stand back up to follow him.
I find him staring at himself in the mirror, his face a mask of despair. In his hand he cradles his left warrior braid, or at least, what's left of it.
"Oeh, al! Jest luuk at my hare!" he cries.
"It's only an inch, Legolas. We can trim it all the way around, and it will all match again. If you don't say anything, no one will know any better."
He lets out a humongous sigh.
Poor baby.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We manage somehow to get all of the old cabinets out of the kitchen, and put up the bank of new upper cabinets by late Wednesday night. The last thing Yes Dear took out before bedtime was the cabinet that holds up the kitchen sink.
I never realized how many times a day Legolas washes his hands. No sooner had he deposited the old moldy cabinet outside in the pile we had ready to go to the landfill when here he came ready to wash his hands. He stopped there where the cabinet once stood, realized his error, and giggled out loud before trotting off to the bathroom sink instead.
That was the FIRST time.
By midnight, exasperated sighs of frustration were occurring on an average of every ten minutes or so. In the next two hours, the sighs increased not only in intensity of frustration, but intensity of volume as well. Here's what it sounded like:
*sound of footsteps crinkling along on the plastic sheeting covering wet, moldy plywood*
"AAAUUURRRGGGHHH!!!"
*sounds of footsteps first crinkling on plastic, then padding on carpet, then slapping on tile*
*sound of water running in the sink*
*sounds of water stopping*
*sounds of padded footsteps on carpet again*
Legolas is a night owl like myself. Both of us can stay up and wide awake as long as the stars are shining in the heavens. That's often when we get our best work done. Unfortunately for me, daybreak means the rest of the humans in our household and all over the world are expecting me to be alert and capable during sunlit hours as well. Legolas, being an elf, sneaks in those "waking dreams" and can get away with not lying in bed for days if he wants to.
Thus, the sounds of elven frustration and distress about cleanliness are not particularly welcome at 3:00 am in this particular household. It also happens that being awake and dressed before 8:00 am when Joe is expected to arrive to start on repairing the floor is a problem for me. Bleary eyed, I stand at the back door and peer out, waiting for him to drive up.
At 8:30 am, I get a phone call from Joe. He's going to be a little late because there wasn't enough (fill in the blank with the name of some random piece of construction equipment yourself - I already said I was bleary) and he needed to go to Greenville to get more.
I don't have enough time for a quick nap, so I put a CD on to keep me awake. Soon Legolas is sashaying about in the den, rocking to Billy Idol. Half an hour later, he's doing the Conga with Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine. Soon he's showing me some Middle-earth moves, and I'm teaching him The Electric Slide. That's about the time Joe knocks on the carport screen door. When I open it, he and Lou are giggling like schoolgirls.
Didn't I say before I can't dance?
Legolas abandons Gloria like she's a hot Latin-baked tamale. In a flash, he's outside directing Joe how to park his trailer in the yard without hitting the flowerpots or bogging down in the low spots out by the laundry line. He totes two-by-fours, drags plastic tarp material, sweeps off the carport, and generally waits on Joe hand and foot.
Joe comes inside, admires Yes Dear's work on the new upper cabinets, and then pulls me aside. "Is it okay if he does all this? The price I quoted you didn't include having him help me with the labor."
"It's fine with me, as long as it's okay with you."
"Okay, then. . . ."
Hmmmm. I wonder if he would have quoted me a higher or a lower price, figuring in an elven princeling as a carpenter's helper. Oh, well. . . .
Joe takes his new apprentice out to the truck and fits him with a toolbelt, showing him how to hang a hammer off his hip so he can draw it like one of those Western six-shooters. After half a dozen false starts, they rehang the belt a bit crooked so it hangs more like a sword in a sheath instead. That seems to solve the Prance's problem, and he's soon drawing quicker than Joe or Lou can.
I head back to the computer room and leave them alone to do their work. I've found that hanging over competent workmen is just a waste of time, and I certainly think highly of Joe and Lou. Joe's wife works at the same place where Yes Dear used to work, and she and I have also done some local charity sort of things together. Her granddaughter is in the same school program as Lil' Pip. It seems our whole family hangs out together at company picnics and local gatherings, so having Joe bang a nail in my kitchen doesn't concern me in the least.
After about half an hour, I head out to refill my tea glass from the pitcher in the refrigerator. I find the refrigerator sitting dead center in front of the sliding glass door in the den. Joe's hung plastic sheeting over the doorway to keep the smell from wafting down the hall, but the odor when I push through and enter the den is enough to knock a buzzard off a . . . uhm. . .high tree branch.
Legolas is in the kitchen gleefully scooping the particle board up off the plywood subfloor with a huge shovel like those that you find in a horsebarn for cleaning stalls. The rot has gotten so bad that he doesn't even have to work to break it apart. It's literally just scooping right up.
What's really funny is that his T-shirt is now draped over the back of the recliner, and he's managed to drag his jeans down his lean hips until he's got about 6 inches of green plaid boxer shorts hanging out of the top of his pants. The toolbelt is slung at a cockeyed angle across his pelvis, and the hammer rests there in front where he has to push at it every time he bends over to keep from skewering his belly on it. He's also managed to finagle a 25-foot tape measure, a roll of black electrical tape, and a Phillips head screwdriver to attach to the belt as well.
The only problem I see with this picture should be readily apparent to those of you who can get your eyeballs back inside your skull.
*Snaps fingers* C'mon, work with me here. . . .
What's so wrong with this picture? That's easy. The long blond locks are hanging freely about his shoulders, swaying in time with the movement of those hips hanging out of the top of his boxers.
He turns around to start a new row of scooping, and when he bends over to slide the blade of the shovel under the mess of mold and particle board, sure enough, there's the plumber's crack. Or is that carpenter's crack? I'll let you be the judge of that one.
I head over to where he's standing, trying not to sneeze from the smell of all the mold. Tapping him on the shoulder, I wait until he rises and looks at me before taking his silky hair in my hands and beginning to braid.
"You've earned Carpenter's Braids today, nin mel. Let me bestow them upon you."
He positively glows as he stands and lets me wind his hair into a single braid down the back of his head, securing it with one of the rubber bands taken from my own warrior braids that his lightning fingers so carefully put in for me this morning.
"There. Now you're truly a Carpenter's Apprentice."
"Due I reely luuk like a Caerpintur'z Apraentise, al?"
"You most certainly do."
He looks down at himself, admiring the toolbelt I'm sure. "Due u like my owtfeat? Joe maed it fur me." He pauses for a moment, considering something, then adds, "I hoep u doen't miend dat I tuuk oeff my shurt."
Without thinking, I respond, "Nin caun, as long as this gets done today, I wouldn't care if you did it completely naked."
Out of the corner of my eye I see his lightning fast hand dart to his waist, his nimble fingers working at the buckle of his belt.
"NO! NO! It was a . . . ."
His chortling outburst could probably be heard clear to town. "I noe, al. It wuz a feegur of speaech. I wuz jest teezeeng u."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas
Landos Star: Thaenk u fur ur guud hoepz dat I wuz okae. I'm glaed u ar fealeeng a loet bedder. Due u theenk it wuld bea okae fur me tu ruen arond wid doze leedle meeny-Legolas'es? Ore iz dat spaelld Legolie? Legolee? Legolum? I dunnoe. I wuzn't plaennin oen haveng eni Legolaesues, seense I spaend all my tiem wid da boeyz moestlee. *keesiz u noew dat u ar bedder*
daw the minstrel: I lub da leedle akturz an aktrissez at da plae! Dey ar soe kuet en dere leedle koestumz. Maekz me waent tu bea an aktur mysef whin I groe uep. Eberybuddie sez I luuk like Orlando Bloom eniwae. Mebbe I culd git a joeb az heez stuentmaen. Hummmm. . . . Plaenned? Oeh, noe, mellon- nin, dis iz noen-fikshun. We doen't plaen it. We jest reapoart it. *seandz u sum spaeshul elbin lub*
SperryDee: Oeh, my guudniss! Poewur tuulz an loashun ar noet MFEO! I bet ur ada wuz noet tuu haeppy abot dat. I droepped da haemmur oen my toe tuu chaepturz bak wile I wuz taelkin tu da Two Princesses, an dat deed huert endeed. *gievz u a grate beeg hueg*
Max Jive: *haendz al anuthr boex of Kleenex soe she kin wiep her eyez frum all her laffin* I theenk al liked ur ideea of goen tu da Bahamaz. She staertid laffin an hazn't kwit yaet. She keapz muetturin sumpthaeng abot gittin her oewn pursunal pierate or soemptin like dat. Da Grammar Laedee alwaez sez dat stressed iz jest desserts spaelld bakwurdz. I taek it u like me coevurd en saewduest? Coem hear. . . .*gievz u a saewduest coevurd kees tu keap*
ariarwen: Maerrie Chreestmus tu u tuu! *ketchiz keesiz an keapz dem saef. Bloewz u sum moer*
SarWolf Snape: Hannon le! Da poewur tuulz kin bea fuen, buet dey ar noet toeyz. Dat'z whut Yaes Deer alwaez sez. *seandz u a kees*
JastaElf: *sings along to our new theme song* Now here's Legolas Trebek! *points at the Prance as he drags himself off the floor, wipes the drool from his chin* Honestly, Jasta, you're going to hurt him one day with that trick. . . . Hae, Jasta! Hae, Ada! Ada, doen't luuk at me like dat. Ur maekin me naervus. Hannon le fur taelkin tu Gandalf fur me. It iz fuennie dat noebuddie meanshund enithaeng abot me beeng goen laest tiem ethur. Doen't crie yaet, Jasta. Ada duzn't like heez roeb tu git soeggie. *huegz u bof beafour goeng bak tu wurk en da keetchin - goetta huerrie noew. . . .*
Phoenix Flight: Noep, poewur tuulz are NOET TOEYZ. I deed luze an empoertint biet, buet u kin't reely tale noew dat al treemd it uep. *snuegglz u*
Nilmandra: Oeh, my guudniss!! U waent tu bare MY elfleengz? My naneth wuld hav toeld u taelz dat wuld kuerl ur hare. If dey ar enithaeng like me, I shuld neber hav eni of my oewn. I weel jest boerroe eberybuddy elsiz elfleengz. Den eberywon wuld lub me. *kloziz my eyez fur ur kees, openz dem bak uep wid a luuk of suerprize at whut ur doen wid ur tung dere*
Lady Peredhel: Soe ur da leedle staer, ar u? Woew, dat's sumthang aelse. Sowndz like he'z en lub. Yaes, I like ur skertz tu. Wareing dem iz a guud ideea. Maek shur u uze at leest 4 spuunz of suegur en dat coeffee soe u weel bea eben sweedur whin he keesiz u. *huegz u soe u hav plaentee of keesiz fur dat hueman*
Miss Aranel: Luuk at my hare! Weel, u kin't sea it enimoer seanse al treemd it, buet it wuz all meased uep oen da eand dere! *duz a leedle biet of al'z taep dansin rooteen* Dis iz hoew it wuz SUEPPOZD tu luuk. . . Stop that, Legolas! Sooo not funny! *geeglz an seandz u a kees*
elf from Rivendell: Mae Govannen tu u tuu, elf from Rivendell! Hav u bean hear beafour? al'z howse alwaez haz sumpthang goen oen. I weel bea heded bak tu Meedl-erth en a weak. Namarie furn noew! *waevz an bloewz u a kees*
Katani Petitedra: *nokz oen da cuepbord doar* U okae en dere? Maek shur u chek ur eerz wile ur en dere! *paessiz u da Q-teepz*
Writer from Rivendell: Oeh, goesh! I furgoet! I gess I weel bea bizzy den tuu. Hear'z a nise skweaze fur u ensted of a kees *SKWEAZE!*
anna: Deed u sea dat guey whoe theenkz he iz me oen da teevea tudae? Whut iz roeng wid hiz tung? He jest caen't keap it en heez mouf, kin he? He duz luuk a leedle bit like me, duzn't he?
Space-Case 7029: Heh. Now I have FOUR laborers to keep me running, and somehow I'm not certain any of them are actually working for free. *gievz u a BEEG HUEG!* MMMMMMMMMMM! Hersheez Keesiz! Hannon le!! *oepunz da baeg an staertz peeking da leedle rapperz oef wile al steelz dem whin she theenkz I em noet luukin*
Holly :o ) : I'm okae. Dat huert tho. I doent rekkummand it tu enibuddie. I weel bea wachin fur a broewn haerd Eowyn whin ROTK coemz nekzt weak. *Seandz u a snueggle dis tiem*
VladimirsAngel: Due u theenk dey weel steel leat me bea en da "Saexy Gueyz en Haebaernz" shuut aftur whut haeppind tu my hare? If noet, whur weel dey puet me? Da 'Noet soe MFEO' shuut? Oeh, deer. . . .*sheevurz an kueddlz uep tu u*
Neoma: Woew! Thaenkz fur joyneeng us! U almoest meesd me! I em glaed u enjoyed reedeeng abot me. I hoep u reed all da wae tu da eand soe u weel git dis meassage. *huegz u*
Arenna DyBane: Deed u sea ur kwestshun uep dere at da toep of da paege? Dat wuz sum guud theenking oen ur paert. *gievz u a beeg kees fur theenkin soe haerd!*
Tricia: al'z lub fur choklit cuvurd chaerriez iz wurld faemus. Won yeer (beafoer she neuw abot ME!) she sed all she waentid fur Chreestmus wuz Wurld Peese and a boex of choklit cuvurd chaerriez. Seense noebuddie culd giev her da Peese, she goet 23 boexez of chaerriez ensted. It tuuk her tial Juely tu eet dem all, buet she deed it! MMMmmmmm . . . POEWUR tuuls. Jest luuk at da wurd. . . . POEWUR *haz a leedle 'moemint' bie misef hear* Oeh, soerrie. *gievz u a smuuch oen da cheak*
Angaloth: Loeng live da Muthurboerd! Whoooeee Hooeee!! (c Celeborn) U sownd like Gimli whin u sae "Poewurtuulz, vary daengurus". We hav oenly haed a duesteeng of snoe wile we wear en da mowntaenz gitting a Chreestmus trea oen da Friedae aftur Thaenksgeeving. Roelling en da snoe shur iz fuen! *duestz da snoe oeff u an gives u a waerm-uep hueg*
PuterPatty: Lil' Pip here. No you don't wish you had an elf! He can be a royal pain in the butt, and I mean it! Just think of all the trouble he gets into. Now, Pip, he's not that bad. Maybe we can just LEND him to PP for a little while. I'm sure she could keep him busy, if nothing else he could just work on her car all day (heehee!). . . . *pueshiz al an Leedle Peep owda da wae* I goet a beeg poewurfuel thaeng rite hear fur u baybee. . .OOUUUMMMPPPHH! *gitz da wiend nokd owda me whin u fuel boeddie takul me like dat* Whooeea. . . . U deedn't tael me U haed a beeg poewurfuel thaeng tuu! *groewlz an snoegz u a guud won*
Grammar Laedee: AAAEEIIYY! *puets a loeng elbin haend ober ur eyez* U deedn't sea dat. Doen't luuk uep dere, okae? *takes the keyboard away from the Prance* Hi, mom. I think AEIY is the noise an elf makes when he's just gotten caught by his grandma while kissing his girlfriend. *snaechiz keabowrd bak* Doen't tael her dat!!! An doen't tuch me, eethur. I'm not touching you. Yaes, u ar. No, I'm not. Yaes u AR! No, I'm not touching you. . . I'm close, but my skin is not connecting with yours. . . GRAMMAR!!! MAEK HER STOEP!!!
Gwilwileth: My Laedee. I em hoenurd dat u eggspaerianced suech deelite en reedeeng abot me. I em eber luuking fur wayz tu hep othurz. Soe u hav a klown of me? Dat ez vary eenturaesteeng. He sowndz like a vary nise elf tu hav arond. Ur weeshiz ar vary wekkum an appreesheatid bie us all. I em soe vary glaed u fownd us. I hav sumthaeng jest fur u *gievz u sum guud elbin lubbin an a geantul kees az weel*
Ithilas: Mae Govannen, Ithilas! It iz guud to hear dat u ar hear tu hep wid da laedeez of Modren-erth. Dere wear wae tu meeny fur jest me aloen, tho I em reluktaent tu sae dat alowd. Beasiedz, wonse Patty gits thru wid me, dere weel be noethin laeft fur eni of da othur tikithoeldurz. Thies iz a guud wurld, buet I em afrade my faet liez en Meedl-erth wid da Fellowship. I muest reaturn. I like ur ideea abot seengeng elvish tu al if she wear tu git seeck agin, buet Yaes Deer wuld noet leeve enithaeng of me whin he goet dun, if dere wuz enithaeng fur heem tu staert wid in da furst plase wonse al goet dun wid me. *shueddurz* I adoer da Lindor Trueffulz an alsoe dat arrow dat u maed. U ar a fien kraeftzman, an shuld bea vary prowd of ur wurk. Namarie fur noew, Ithilas. Hannon le fur fiending me an leatting me noe u ar owt dere. *claespz ur shoeldur en da worrier'z faerwael*
Jessymick: I em soe glaed u hav bean reedeng my stoerriez! Thaenk u fur tipeeng tu me. Mae ur dreemz bea filld wid staerlite an waerm breeaziz kees ur faece. *huegz u*
Leedle Peep: I waentid tu goe tu kaemp tuu! I haed tu stae hoem wid da doeggie. NOET FAER! *powtz* . . . Hello, Pip. I don't usually talk back to you because these are really Legolas' lub ledders, and he usually does most of the talking and I do most of the telling. There's a difference, you know. I'm glad camp was so much fun. Thanks for taking your dad with you and giving me a three day vacation from him.
Chan: Due u like my hare kuet? U kin't reely tael it'z bean treemd, kin u? I haed bean gitting soe loeng eniwae.*strykez a poze wid da haemmur an haendsaew fur u* I jest luuk guud en tuulz, doen't u theenk? *bloewz u a kees*
The Karenator: Ar u okae? I wuld hav seant u a kaerd if I neuw u wear noet fealeeng wael. I hoep eberythaeng iz okae noew? I hav my eerpluegz rite hear. *paetz pokit of my jeenz* I weel bea haeppie tu sea my familee, buet dere iz wurk tu bea dun furst. *gievz u a geentl skweaze*
leail: *seengz* Haeppie Burfdae tu u! Haeppie Burfdae tu u! Haeppie Burfdae, deer leail! Haeppie Burfdae tu u! I hoep u haed a guud tiem, an da u goet eberythaeng u waentid. Deed Cara7 an Andy8 fiend u da perfikt geeft? Jest haevin dem is perty purfkict, I theenk. *huegz tu eberybuddie*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Better hurry. Next chapter in two days. Lub ledders are almost over. Don't miss yours!
And the answer? I don't know. I don't expect he will fall out of RotK. I just don't know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 19 Tool Time
"I said HOLD STILL!"
"I kin't! It HUERTZ!"
"I can't very well fix it if you don't stop fighting! This is a damned fine bloody mess you've gotten yourself into this time, you know."
"OOOOOOeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww! al!"
"I thought you were a warrior. Warriors are tougher than that," says Lil' Pip, clearly not impressed with the Prance's pain tolerance.
"OOOEEEWWWW!!! Tampa tanya, al!"
"Geez, he squeals like a girl," complains Lil' Pip.
"Shued uep!"
"Don't say shut up," lectures Yes Dear from the floor where he's working hard to restrain the Prance to keep him from doing any more damage to himself. "It's not nice."
I take advantage of the distraction of their arguing to stand up and try to find something to get us out of this situation. Moving to the bathroom closet, I grab the first aid kit and a couple of towels and hurry back to the kitchen. Kneeling by the Prance's head, I open the kit and take out some antibiotic cream, some gauze pads, some cotton-tipped applicators, and the little needle-nosed pinchers called hemostats.
"NOE! NOE! NOET DA SEEEZIRZ!!" wails Prance Helpful.
"Hold still. You're only making things worse with all this struggling," I say, whispering so he'll have to listen closely as I squeeze some of the greasy antibiotic cream onto a gauze pad and hold the pad to the sawblade where it's so firmly embedded. As I work the cream in with my right hand, I start to stroke his cheek with the back of my left, hoping the gesture will reassure and comfort him. "I'm not going to cut you. I'm going to work some of this antibiotic cream in here and then see if I can get you loose from this blade, okay?"
"Okae," he whimpers. His baby blue eyes are locked on mine.
Once I've got every millimeter covered in the oily cream, I lay out a couple more of the gauze squares where I can reach them easily and pick up the hemostats. Pulling gently with tiny tugs, I start to separate him from the circular saw.
After about ten minutes, I make eye contact with Yes Dear.
"This is really bad, you know."
"I know."
"I'm not sure I can do this."
"I know."
Another ten minutes passes. Legolas is lying very still flat on his back there between us with his eyes closed, concentrating on breathing with little shallow inhales and exhales, trying incredibly hard to be patient and cooperative.
"Iz it gitteng eni bedder?" he whispers.
"Yes," I lie. "I appreciate how quiet you're being. It's a lot of help, sweetie. Hang in there for just a little bit longer."
Yes Dear wipes his hand across his forehead. "You want me to try?"
"Sure."
"Trade places with me."
He takes the hemostats and the gauze pads from me and, as he starts to pick and pull, says softly, "You said to make him wear the safety goggles."
"I know," I reply. "And I see he's still wearing them, though they're not much good in a situation like this."
Yes Dear bristles at me. "Well, neither one of us really expects a medal. I vote we bag him into the van and haul him down to the ER and see what they can do."
"What a wuss. . . ," mumbles Lil' Pip from the recliner where she's reading her latest Nancy Drew mystery.
"You know we can't do that. We'll just have to handle this ourselves." I stop to consider my alternatives, and the only thing I can come up with is the same thing I've been avoiding for the past half hour. "I don't want to do this, but if I use the scissors to sever just that one little place there, I think I can work him loose without hurting him any more. . . ."
"Might as well get on with it then," decides the Man of the House.
"Noe, puhleese. . . noet da seezirs. . . ," whines the Prance, watching me reach to pick them up from the first aid kit.
"I have to, baby. I'm sorry," I say reassuringly as I use the curved bandage scissors to make a tiny cut by reaching down in between the sawblade and the metal handle.
A yelp and three more tugs with the hemostats later, the Prance pops free. He's off the floor in a flash and halfway to the bathroom before I can even stand back up to follow him.
I find him staring at himself in the mirror, his face a mask of despair. In his hand he cradles his left warrior braid, or at least, what's left of it.
"Oeh, al! Jest luuk at my hare!" he cries.
"It's only an inch, Legolas. We can trim it all the way around, and it will all match again. If you don't say anything, no one will know any better."
He lets out a humongous sigh.
Poor baby.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We manage somehow to get all of the old cabinets out of the kitchen, and put up the bank of new upper cabinets by late Wednesday night. The last thing Yes Dear took out before bedtime was the cabinet that holds up the kitchen sink.
I never realized how many times a day Legolas washes his hands. No sooner had he deposited the old moldy cabinet outside in the pile we had ready to go to the landfill when here he came ready to wash his hands. He stopped there where the cabinet once stood, realized his error, and giggled out loud before trotting off to the bathroom sink instead.
That was the FIRST time.
By midnight, exasperated sighs of frustration were occurring on an average of every ten minutes or so. In the next two hours, the sighs increased not only in intensity of frustration, but intensity of volume as well. Here's what it sounded like:
*sound of footsteps crinkling along on the plastic sheeting covering wet, moldy plywood*
"AAAUUURRRGGGHHH!!!"
*sounds of footsteps first crinkling on plastic, then padding on carpet, then slapping on tile*
*sound of water running in the sink*
*sounds of water stopping*
*sounds of padded footsteps on carpet again*
Legolas is a night owl like myself. Both of us can stay up and wide awake as long as the stars are shining in the heavens. That's often when we get our best work done. Unfortunately for me, daybreak means the rest of the humans in our household and all over the world are expecting me to be alert and capable during sunlit hours as well. Legolas, being an elf, sneaks in those "waking dreams" and can get away with not lying in bed for days if he wants to.
Thus, the sounds of elven frustration and distress about cleanliness are not particularly welcome at 3:00 am in this particular household. It also happens that being awake and dressed before 8:00 am when Joe is expected to arrive to start on repairing the floor is a problem for me. Bleary eyed, I stand at the back door and peer out, waiting for him to drive up.
At 8:30 am, I get a phone call from Joe. He's going to be a little late because there wasn't enough (fill in the blank with the name of some random piece of construction equipment yourself - I already said I was bleary) and he needed to go to Greenville to get more.
I don't have enough time for a quick nap, so I put a CD on to keep me awake. Soon Legolas is sashaying about in the den, rocking to Billy Idol. Half an hour later, he's doing the Conga with Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine. Soon he's showing me some Middle-earth moves, and I'm teaching him The Electric Slide. That's about the time Joe knocks on the carport screen door. When I open it, he and Lou are giggling like schoolgirls.
Didn't I say before I can't dance?
Legolas abandons Gloria like she's a hot Latin-baked tamale. In a flash, he's outside directing Joe how to park his trailer in the yard without hitting the flowerpots or bogging down in the low spots out by the laundry line. He totes two-by-fours, drags plastic tarp material, sweeps off the carport, and generally waits on Joe hand and foot.
Joe comes inside, admires Yes Dear's work on the new upper cabinets, and then pulls me aside. "Is it okay if he does all this? The price I quoted you didn't include having him help me with the labor."
"It's fine with me, as long as it's okay with you."
"Okay, then. . . ."
Hmmmm. I wonder if he would have quoted me a higher or a lower price, figuring in an elven princeling as a carpenter's helper. Oh, well. . . .
Joe takes his new apprentice out to the truck and fits him with a toolbelt, showing him how to hang a hammer off his hip so he can draw it like one of those Western six-shooters. After half a dozen false starts, they rehang the belt a bit crooked so it hangs more like a sword in a sheath instead. That seems to solve the Prance's problem, and he's soon drawing quicker than Joe or Lou can.
I head back to the computer room and leave them alone to do their work. I've found that hanging over competent workmen is just a waste of time, and I certainly think highly of Joe and Lou. Joe's wife works at the same place where Yes Dear used to work, and she and I have also done some local charity sort of things together. Her granddaughter is in the same school program as Lil' Pip. It seems our whole family hangs out together at company picnics and local gatherings, so having Joe bang a nail in my kitchen doesn't concern me in the least.
After about half an hour, I head out to refill my tea glass from the pitcher in the refrigerator. I find the refrigerator sitting dead center in front of the sliding glass door in the den. Joe's hung plastic sheeting over the doorway to keep the smell from wafting down the hall, but the odor when I push through and enter the den is enough to knock a buzzard off a . . . uhm. . .high tree branch.
Legolas is in the kitchen gleefully scooping the particle board up off the plywood subfloor with a huge shovel like those that you find in a horsebarn for cleaning stalls. The rot has gotten so bad that he doesn't even have to work to break it apart. It's literally just scooping right up.
What's really funny is that his T-shirt is now draped over the back of the recliner, and he's managed to drag his jeans down his lean hips until he's got about 6 inches of green plaid boxer shorts hanging out of the top of his pants. The toolbelt is slung at a cockeyed angle across his pelvis, and the hammer rests there in front where he has to push at it every time he bends over to keep from skewering his belly on it. He's also managed to finagle a 25-foot tape measure, a roll of black electrical tape, and a Phillips head screwdriver to attach to the belt as well.
The only problem I see with this picture should be readily apparent to those of you who can get your eyeballs back inside your skull.
*Snaps fingers* C'mon, work with me here. . . .
What's so wrong with this picture? That's easy. The long blond locks are hanging freely about his shoulders, swaying in time with the movement of those hips hanging out of the top of his boxers.
He turns around to start a new row of scooping, and when he bends over to slide the blade of the shovel under the mess of mold and particle board, sure enough, there's the plumber's crack. Or is that carpenter's crack? I'll let you be the judge of that one.
I head over to where he's standing, trying not to sneeze from the smell of all the mold. Tapping him on the shoulder, I wait until he rises and looks at me before taking his silky hair in my hands and beginning to braid.
"You've earned Carpenter's Braids today, nin mel. Let me bestow them upon you."
He positively glows as he stands and lets me wind his hair into a single braid down the back of his head, securing it with one of the rubber bands taken from my own warrior braids that his lightning fingers so carefully put in for me this morning.
"There. Now you're truly a Carpenter's Apprentice."
"Due I reely luuk like a Caerpintur'z Apraentise, al?"
"You most certainly do."
He looks down at himself, admiring the toolbelt I'm sure. "Due u like my owtfeat? Joe maed it fur me." He pauses for a moment, considering something, then adds, "I hoep u doen't miend dat I tuuk oeff my shurt."
Without thinking, I respond, "Nin caun, as long as this gets done today, I wouldn't care if you did it completely naked."
Out of the corner of my eye I see his lightning fast hand dart to his waist, his nimble fingers working at the buckle of his belt.
"NO! NO! It was a . . . ."
His chortling outburst could probably be heard clear to town. "I noe, al. It wuz a feegur of speaech. I wuz jest teezeeng u."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lub Ledderz frum Legolas
Landos Star: Thaenk u fur ur guud hoepz dat I wuz okae. I'm glaed u ar fealeeng a loet bedder. Due u theenk it wuld bea okae fur me tu ruen arond wid doze leedle meeny-Legolas'es? Ore iz dat spaelld Legolie? Legolee? Legolum? I dunnoe. I wuzn't plaennin oen haveng eni Legolaesues, seense I spaend all my tiem wid da boeyz moestlee. *keesiz u noew dat u ar bedder*
daw the minstrel: I lub da leedle akturz an aktrissez at da plae! Dey ar soe kuet en dere leedle koestumz. Maekz me waent tu bea an aktur mysef whin I groe uep. Eberybuddie sez I luuk like Orlando Bloom eniwae. Mebbe I culd git a joeb az heez stuentmaen. Hummmm. . . . Plaenned? Oeh, noe, mellon- nin, dis iz noen-fikshun. We doen't plaen it. We jest reapoart it. *seandz u sum spaeshul elbin lub*
SperryDee: Oeh, my guudniss! Poewur tuulz an loashun ar noet MFEO! I bet ur ada wuz noet tuu haeppy abot dat. I droepped da haemmur oen my toe tuu chaepturz bak wile I wuz taelkin tu da Two Princesses, an dat deed huert endeed. *gievz u a grate beeg hueg*
Max Jive: *haendz al anuthr boex of Kleenex soe she kin wiep her eyez frum all her laffin* I theenk al liked ur ideea of goen tu da Bahamaz. She staertid laffin an hazn't kwit yaet. She keapz muetturin sumpthaeng abot gittin her oewn pursunal pierate or soemptin like dat. Da Grammar Laedee alwaez sez dat stressed iz jest desserts spaelld bakwurdz. I taek it u like me coevurd en saewduest? Coem hear. . . .*gievz u a saewduest coevurd kees tu keap*
ariarwen: Maerrie Chreestmus tu u tuu! *ketchiz keesiz an keapz dem saef. Bloewz u sum moer*
SarWolf Snape: Hannon le! Da poewur tuulz kin bea fuen, buet dey ar noet toeyz. Dat'z whut Yaes Deer alwaez sez. *seandz u a kees*
JastaElf: *sings along to our new theme song* Now here's Legolas Trebek! *points at the Prance as he drags himself off the floor, wipes the drool from his chin* Honestly, Jasta, you're going to hurt him one day with that trick. . . . Hae, Jasta! Hae, Ada! Ada, doen't luuk at me like dat. Ur maekin me naervus. Hannon le fur taelkin tu Gandalf fur me. It iz fuennie dat noebuddie meanshund enithaeng abot me beeng goen laest tiem ethur. Doen't crie yaet, Jasta. Ada duzn't like heez roeb tu git soeggie. *huegz u bof beafour goeng bak tu wurk en da keetchin - goetta huerrie noew. . . .*
Phoenix Flight: Noep, poewur tuulz are NOET TOEYZ. I deed luze an empoertint biet, buet u kin't reely tale noew dat al treemd it uep. *snuegglz u*
Nilmandra: Oeh, my guudniss!! U waent tu bare MY elfleengz? My naneth wuld hav toeld u taelz dat wuld kuerl ur hare. If dey ar enithaeng like me, I shuld neber hav eni of my oewn. I weel jest boerroe eberybuddy elsiz elfleengz. Den eberywon wuld lub me. *kloziz my eyez fur ur kees, openz dem bak uep wid a luuk of suerprize at whut ur doen wid ur tung dere*
Lady Peredhel: Soe ur da leedle staer, ar u? Woew, dat's sumthang aelse. Sowndz like he'z en lub. Yaes, I like ur skertz tu. Wareing dem iz a guud ideea. Maek shur u uze at leest 4 spuunz of suegur en dat coeffee soe u weel bea eben sweedur whin he keesiz u. *huegz u soe u hav plaentee of keesiz fur dat hueman*
Miss Aranel: Luuk at my hare! Weel, u kin't sea it enimoer seanse al treemd it, buet it wuz all meased uep oen da eand dere! *duz a leedle biet of al'z taep dansin rooteen* Dis iz hoew it wuz SUEPPOZD tu luuk. . . Stop that, Legolas! Sooo not funny! *geeglz an seandz u a kees*
elf from Rivendell: Mae Govannen tu u tuu, elf from Rivendell! Hav u bean hear beafour? al'z howse alwaez haz sumpthang goen oen. I weel bea heded bak tu Meedl-erth en a weak. Namarie furn noew! *waevz an bloewz u a kees*
Katani Petitedra: *nokz oen da cuepbord doar* U okae en dere? Maek shur u chek ur eerz wile ur en dere! *paessiz u da Q-teepz*
Writer from Rivendell: Oeh, goesh! I furgoet! I gess I weel bea bizzy den tuu. Hear'z a nise skweaze fur u ensted of a kees *SKWEAZE!*
anna: Deed u sea dat guey whoe theenkz he iz me oen da teevea tudae? Whut iz roeng wid hiz tung? He jest caen't keap it en heez mouf, kin he? He duz luuk a leedle bit like me, duzn't he?
Space-Case 7029: Heh. Now I have FOUR laborers to keep me running, and somehow I'm not certain any of them are actually working for free. *gievz u a BEEG HUEG!* MMMMMMMMMMM! Hersheez Keesiz! Hannon le!! *oepunz da baeg an staertz peeking da leedle rapperz oef wile al steelz dem whin she theenkz I em noet luukin*
Holly :o ) : I'm okae. Dat huert tho. I doent rekkummand it tu enibuddie. I weel bea wachin fur a broewn haerd Eowyn whin ROTK coemz nekzt weak. *Seandz u a snueggle dis tiem*
VladimirsAngel: Due u theenk dey weel steel leat me bea en da "Saexy Gueyz en Haebaernz" shuut aftur whut haeppind tu my hare? If noet, whur weel dey puet me? Da 'Noet soe MFEO' shuut? Oeh, deer. . . .*sheevurz an kueddlz uep tu u*
Neoma: Woew! Thaenkz fur joyneeng us! U almoest meesd me! I em glaed u enjoyed reedeeng abot me. I hoep u reed all da wae tu da eand soe u weel git dis meassage. *huegz u*
Arenna DyBane: Deed u sea ur kwestshun uep dere at da toep of da paege? Dat wuz sum guud theenking oen ur paert. *gievz u a beeg kees fur theenkin soe haerd!*
Tricia: al'z lub fur choklit cuvurd chaerriez iz wurld faemus. Won yeer (beafoer she neuw abot ME!) she sed all she waentid fur Chreestmus wuz Wurld Peese and a boex of choklit cuvurd chaerriez. Seense noebuddie culd giev her da Peese, she goet 23 boexez of chaerriez ensted. It tuuk her tial Juely tu eet dem all, buet she deed it! MMMmmmmm . . . POEWUR tuuls. Jest luuk at da wurd. . . . POEWUR *haz a leedle 'moemint' bie misef hear* Oeh, soerrie. *gievz u a smuuch oen da cheak*
Angaloth: Loeng live da Muthurboerd! Whoooeee Hooeee!! (c Celeborn) U sownd like Gimli whin u sae "Poewurtuulz, vary daengurus". We hav oenly haed a duesteeng of snoe wile we wear en da mowntaenz gitting a Chreestmus trea oen da Friedae aftur Thaenksgeeving. Roelling en da snoe shur iz fuen! *duestz da snoe oeff u an gives u a waerm-uep hueg*
PuterPatty: Lil' Pip here. No you don't wish you had an elf! He can be a royal pain in the butt, and I mean it! Just think of all the trouble he gets into. Now, Pip, he's not that bad. Maybe we can just LEND him to PP for a little while. I'm sure she could keep him busy, if nothing else he could just work on her car all day (heehee!). . . . *pueshiz al an Leedle Peep owda da wae* I goet a beeg poewurfuel thaeng rite hear fur u baybee. . .OOUUUMMMPPPHH! *gitz da wiend nokd owda me whin u fuel boeddie takul me like dat* Whooeea. . . . U deedn't tael me U haed a beeg poewurfuel thaeng tuu! *groewlz an snoegz u a guud won*
Grammar Laedee: AAAEEIIYY! *puets a loeng elbin haend ober ur eyez* U deedn't sea dat. Doen't luuk uep dere, okae? *takes the keyboard away from the Prance* Hi, mom. I think AEIY is the noise an elf makes when he's just gotten caught by his grandma while kissing his girlfriend. *snaechiz keabowrd bak* Doen't tael her dat!!! An doen't tuch me, eethur. I'm not touching you. Yaes, u ar. No, I'm not. Yaes u AR! No, I'm not touching you. . . I'm close, but my skin is not connecting with yours. . . GRAMMAR!!! MAEK HER STOEP!!!
Gwilwileth: My Laedee. I em hoenurd dat u eggspaerianced suech deelite en reedeeng abot me. I em eber luuking fur wayz tu hep othurz. Soe u hav a klown of me? Dat ez vary eenturaesteeng. He sowndz like a vary nise elf tu hav arond. Ur weeshiz ar vary wekkum an appreesheatid bie us all. I em soe vary glaed u fownd us. I hav sumthaeng jest fur u *gievz u sum guud elbin lubbin an a geantul kees az weel*
Ithilas: Mae Govannen, Ithilas! It iz guud to hear dat u ar hear tu hep wid da laedeez of Modren-erth. Dere wear wae tu meeny fur jest me aloen, tho I em reluktaent tu sae dat alowd. Beasiedz, wonse Patty gits thru wid me, dere weel be noethin laeft fur eni of da othur tikithoeldurz. Thies iz a guud wurld, buet I em afrade my faet liez en Meedl-erth wid da Fellowship. I muest reaturn. I like ur ideea abot seengeng elvish tu al if she wear tu git seeck agin, buet Yaes Deer wuld noet leeve enithaeng of me whin he goet dun, if dere wuz enithaeng fur heem tu staert wid in da furst plase wonse al goet dun wid me. *shueddurz* I adoer da Lindor Trueffulz an alsoe dat arrow dat u maed. U ar a fien kraeftzman, an shuld bea vary prowd of ur wurk. Namarie fur noew, Ithilas. Hannon le fur fiending me an leatting me noe u ar owt dere. *claespz ur shoeldur en da worrier'z faerwael*
Jessymick: I em soe glaed u hav bean reedeng my stoerriez! Thaenk u fur tipeeng tu me. Mae ur dreemz bea filld wid staerlite an waerm breeaziz kees ur faece. *huegz u*
Leedle Peep: I waentid tu goe tu kaemp tuu! I haed tu stae hoem wid da doeggie. NOET FAER! *powtz* . . . Hello, Pip. I don't usually talk back to you because these are really Legolas' lub ledders, and he usually does most of the talking and I do most of the telling. There's a difference, you know. I'm glad camp was so much fun. Thanks for taking your dad with you and giving me a three day vacation from him.
Chan: Due u like my hare kuet? U kin't reely tael it'z bean treemd, kin u? I haed bean gitting soe loeng eniwae.*strykez a poze wid da haemmur an haendsaew fur u* I jest luuk guud en tuulz, doen't u theenk? *bloewz u a kees*
The Karenator: Ar u okae? I wuld hav seant u a kaerd if I neuw u wear noet fealeeng wael. I hoep eberythaeng iz okae noew? I hav my eerpluegz rite hear. *paetz pokit of my jeenz* I weel bea haeppie tu sea my familee, buet dere iz wurk tu bea dun furst. *gievz u a geentl skweaze*
leail: *seengz* Haeppie Burfdae tu u! Haeppie Burfdae tu u! Haeppie Burfdae, deer leail! Haeppie Burfdae tu u! I hoep u haed a guud tiem, an da u goet eberythaeng u waentid. Deed Cara7 an Andy8 fiend u da perfikt geeft? Jest haevin dem is perty purfkict, I theenk. *huegz tu eberybuddie*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Better hurry. Next chapter in two days. Lub ledders are almost over. Don't miss yours!